


Transfiguration

by crabappleJohnny, Langamire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Horror, Body Modification, Bondage, Extreme Bondage, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabappleJohnny/pseuds/crabappleJohnny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Langamire/pseuds/Langamire
Summary: Lance has been held captive for almost half an earth year. After undergoing a series of Quintessence injections, Lance starts to feel different, more or less than human. Meanwhile Lotor's deviations grow more strange and possessive as time moves on.Based on a series of images by Lohkay.Work used with explicit permission from the artist.Ocean Room 1Ocean Room 2Ocean Room 2Ocean Room 4Edit: I reworked Chapter 1, hopefully Lotor feels a bit more in character and there are less typos. Thanks for all the kudos and comments, this is my first fic and it's a learning experience.





	1. Ocean Room

Lotor stood on the bridge of the submerged space vessel that was idling in an expanse of endless ocean. The suns of this planet played with the color of it’s pale green water. At different times of day the sun shown pink and gold, at other times deep velvety reds and purples. It was an alien landscape to any human, but the familiarity of a saline ocean and the presence of abundant marine life was something of a comfort to the young Earthling under his protection. 

Lance had mentioned the abundant oceans of his home planet. If there was one thing Lotor could manage it was getting Lance to talk. Even in his most sour moments it only took simple provocation to get him yammering about his time on earth, the people there, the food, the scenery. He’d heard about neighborhood cats and local noodle shops, taco trucks and cold fruit in the sun. Those were the moments Lance seemed happiest, when he thought of those places and those times. Any mention of Voltron and he’d freeze up. Too tender a subject still.

Lotor glanced down at his shoes, catching sight of a small scuff on his right heel. He’d have these boots destroyed and a new pair made. Looking past his own feet, he saw through the transparent floor the lower levels of the bridge. As the ship went lower it broke the surface of the outside sea, giving the decks below a view of the cresting waves and the creatures beneath them. When night did fall, it only lasted a few brief but very dark hours. In the waters surrounding their ship, small and large bioluminescent life shown from all sides. At times the deepest recesses and submarine caves would glow as bright as if they were lit by the sun. 

It was a brilliant place, full of spectacular beauty. Lotor prided himself on how thoughtful a choice this planet had been. With a soft scoff he walked out of the viewing deck. His shoes clicked as he walked, sounding his presence as the bay doors opened. Drones stood on either side of the exit, flanking him as he made his way through the halls. 

“Ah, leave it. I don’t need your presence at the moment.” He waved them off with a flick of his wrist. The drones stopped and returned to their posts, visor lights dimming as they powered down. Tight security, stifling at times.

Lotor adjusted his collar, the suit he wore was similar to his Galra uniform, svelte and close to the body. Unlike his usual suit this was a deep maroon color juxtaposed with violet. It hugged his sides and the curves of his spin. In the right light he looked as if he was dipped in blood. Lance always seemed more on edge when he wore this color.

“Knock knock”. Lotor said, tapping a knuckle on the hallway wall that connected his suite to an adjoining room. Here there was a 360 degree view of the ocean around. On this floor Lance could see the underside of the water’s surface glittering above them. The ever moving tide made sunlight dance and ripple through the large space. Marine species, at least they looked enough like fish, swam in large schools, small pods, or floated alone through the crystalline water. Today was especially lively, and Lance sat completely occupied. 

Lotor realized Lance hadn’t heard him, but sauntered up to him anyway. The young Paladin sat leaning on one side, a single shoulder bare where his blue robe was falling down. He was staring up, unmoving. There was gentle music playing, Lotor had given him access to the Galra’s sound archives. That included everything from music, to speeches, to the sound a black hole makes at different frequencies. Lance seemed to enjoy music most, and Lotor was eager to give him an unlimited resource. It was a good distraction for Lance when he seemed sulky.

Lotor took hold of Lance’s temple and cheeks from behind, arching the boy’s head a bit farther back to kiss his forehead. As he broke away their eyes met. Lance’s thin irises staring back, half lidded eyes and pupils dilated. He hadn’t starled, though his mental space had been elsewhere. It was like waking someone from a dream.

“How long have you been here?” Lance croaked, his voice catching a bit. He licked at his own dry lips, reaching for a glass of water on the table. 

“Not long. Long enough to find your behaviour a bit strange. Lost in a haze?” Lotor watched Lance finish his drink in one go before wiping his chin with the back of a sleeved hand. The boy looked slightly defeated, as if he was ashamed or unwilling to share what had been on his mind.

“Thinking about the Paladins again? You really can’t help it can you.” Lotor tilted his head to the side, looking apologetic.

“Repressing those memories isn’t any good. Instead we’ll make new ones. Better ones.” Lotor reached out, taking Lance’s hand and guiding it to his cheek. The skin was smooth and warm, it smelled clean with a hint of salt, much like the sea. Lance hadn’t had the courage or inclination to go swimming in these waters, but perhaps in time.

“You like attention, let me give you some attention.” He said, kissing the arch of Lance’s thin knuckles on the back of his hand, kissing his wrist, then his forearm, pulling him ever closer until finally yanking him into his lap and sucking at the base of his neck.

Lance cried out in surprise as Lotor thrust him forward. He still wasn’t used to Galra strength, but quite familiar with their tenacity. It was better not to struggle when caught in a snare. It only makes the trap hold you tighter. He groaned at the sensation of a hot wet mouth on his neck, sucking greedily up to the base of his ear. He could hear Lotor’s breath, smell his skin and hair.

Still not recovered from his thoughts, Lance felt himself lacking any will to fight off Lotor’s pawing. He allowed the strong thin fingers to open his robes, exposing thin fabric that barely clothing his chest, and even less so his nethers. Sprawled out on the sofa Lotor resumed his sucking and licking. Like a cat lapping milk off his exposed body Lance couldn’t help but make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. Sometimes it tickled, sometimes it felt good and it unnerved him.

Satisfied that Lance’s skin was thoroughly moistened with his saliva, Lotor sat upright, eyeing the prize below him. The rise and fall of Lance’s thin chest with every breath caught the light from the outside sea. It played across the deep umber of his stomach and hips. His groin was obscured by thin white fabric, though the curve of his penis and soft mound of his balls could be seen tucked against his thigh.

“You’re really beautiful, especially in this light.” Lotor said with conviction. Lance broke eye contact, his cheeks burning. Saying this while his entire body was laid out, on display like meat. His nipples were hard and rigid from the chill in the air. It made Lance wince, and that hint of pain in his eyes was the look Lotor wanted. All this posturing and play acting that he didn’t care - surely he cared.

“Are you hungry?” Lotor asked as he stood, shifting his hair over his shoulders to keep it out of the way. Lance reacted to this, sitting upright and raising a hand to his neck where Lotor had left a violet bruise. Lance looked a bit pained, eager and nervous. 

“Oh poor thing, I’m sure you must be famished.” Lotor moved to cup Lance’s face, turning it upright. Lance caught his gaze unsteadily, still ashamed to look him in the eye. Lotor stroked a high cheekbone with one thumb, rising further to stroke a thin marking on the boy’s forehead. It was a ‘V’ shape with an inverted ‘V’ in the middle, a Galra mark of ownership. Lance was claimed as his, in writing and in flesh.

“So obedient. What did your former masters think of you?” The Prince asked with a smile. Lance looked puzzled, then frowned. Lotor was goading him.

“I wasn’t ever kept before, and definitely not against my will.” Lance clenched his jaw, giving Lotor a hard look. He didn’t like the game the Prince was playing, pretending that this was all some sentimental journey between lovers. The paladins were down one man. They would be looking for him, at least he hoped they were. He had to believe they were.

“Will yields to submission. Yours is easy enough to break. You’ll learn to accept your place by my side. In the shadows, so be it, but ever attentive and ever present.” Lotor was smiling but his voice was firm. He knew the weight his words carried.

Lance broke their gaze, covering himself with his discarded robe, hiding the expanse of his chest and shoulders. Even the thin veil of fabric felt like armor. He wasn’t about to argue with Lotor.

“You act like you know me, Like you understand humans.”

“Enlighten me. Did Earth never suffer war? Are you incapable of greed and animosity?”

Lance was caught off guard by Lotor’s question.

“I don’t know anyone that would do this. Keep me locked up.”

“No human would ever do this?” Lotor asked sincerely.

“There are bad humans. But the good outweigh the bad.” Lance shifted uncomfortably.

“You’re optimistic. It’s something sweet about you.” Lotor said plainly. Lance glared at Lotor. He was sick of the compliments, the offering of kindness before an attack.

“You don’t want me to just hate you.” Lance said to Lotor’s back as the Prince made his way across the room. The Prince laughed under his breath.

“No, what would be the fun in that. Hatred is boring if it’s all you know. And I know hatred.”

“How can you expect me not to hate you when you keep me here?”

“I expect you to be grateful.”

Lance choked on a laugh, it was dry and callous.

“It’s no laughing matter. I’ve given you a wonderful gift. This planet was chosen with your taste and interests in mind.”

“Did I ask for this?”

“No. You’d rather be on the front lines of this war dying.”

“Better to die fighting then stuck here.” Lance said with a hitch in his throat. He was flushed and shaking with indignation and rage. Why was Lotor doing this to him, keeping him here, trying to brainwash him, goading him into forgetting his friends and his responsibilities.

Lotor looked over his shoulder, returning to Lance with a small gun like device in his hands. He stood in front of Lance, the boy’s head hanging, not looking up as Lotor cocked the injection chamber. The vial inside was filled with a thin vial of fluorescent purple liquid. It seemed to glow from inside.

“If you think things are so bad, just imagine that it could always be worse.”

Lance shook visibly, still unwilling to look up.

“I’m making you more resilient, capable of adapting to anything.” Lotor held the gun in one hand, sliding Lance’s robe off one shoulder. He tilted the boys head up to expose his neck. Above the kiss mark Lotor had left were a series of small injection points. He placed the barrel of the gun over one of the older marks. Grabbing Lance’s hair with the other hand, he gripped the boy’s head still, pulling the trigger. There was a soft hiss as the chamber emptied, the plunger injecting the entirety of the vial into Lance’s bloodstream.

The initial pin prick always gave him a start, but the gun neutralized pain almost immediately after injection. What it left was a warm sensation flooding throughout his body from his neck. It felt odd at first, like having electricity in your blood.

Light seemed to fizzle and pop behind his eyelids. Lotor had explained that this nutrient solution was used to nourish Galra soldiers when basic provisions like food were unavailable. Some Galra insisted on forgoing food altogether and survived on the serum alone. Some of the finest batches are known to contain quintessence itself, but overexposure can lead to misconduct and indolence.

The influx of nutrients and energy causes an initial release of endorphins. It’s quite pleasurable and can be addictive in some circumstances. Think of it like enjoying a big meal all at once, without the consequences of indigestion. Oh and there’s aphrodisiac properties as well. They don’t advertise, celibacy is seen as an honorable act, giving all one’s strength and virility to the cause, making the Empire potent and robust.

Lotor let go of Lance’s hair, allowing the boy’s head roll on his shoulders. There was a drunk quality to him, soft moaning coming from his moist and parted lips. He was curling inward, covering his waist as his cheeks and ears began to turn a darker red.

“Felt good didn’t it. You were starved.” Lotor put down the gun without looking away, then returned, kneeling in front of an abashed Lance.

Lotor placed a hand on each of Lance’s thighs pushing them apart in a matter of fact way. Lance’s robe was loosely clinging to him and fell open, exposing a half hard erection in the thin white undergarments he was given. Lance was sheepishly trying to avoid eye contact, but the Prince was giving a hard look. 

Lotor pressed a finger against the clothed tip of Lance’s cock. He rubbed delicately, using his nail to dip into the soft clothed slit. Lance was gasping, the small erotic stimulation breaking his silence. His cock was growing longer and harder by the second, extending his underwear beyond comfortable stretching. The ache of his confined erection, as well as the ministrations of Lotor’s thin nails on the head of his cock, made him cry out. He clasped a hand over his mouth.

“Put it down. I want to hear you.” He said without stopping, three nailed fingers now playing with the overstimulated tip of Lance’s cock. There was a stain spreading near the fabric covered head, precum welling out of the tip. There was a distinct salty and sweet smell emanating from Lance’s groin, and Lotor helped himself to a taste of it, sucking at the still clothed erection in front of him, gripping at Lance’s thighs to hold them tightly apart.

Lance was breathing hard, taking in the heat of Lotor’s mouth around him. The texture of his underwear was rough and wet, the friction against his cock making his toes curl. His entire body was alight with that electricity. He could feel the injection’s contents coursing through him, echoing the beating of his heart like a pounding drum in his ears. Sensation was a blur, but he recognized pleasure. And he recognized shame.

Lance let out a strained cry of protest, pushing at Lotor’s sucking mouth that was gulping the whole of him. His underwear was a wet mess soaked in saliva, clinging to every curve and soft mound.

Lotor responded by standing up and shoving Lance back onto the sofa forcefully. With one firm yank he tore Lance’s soaked undergarments, tossing them aside before crawling between Lance’s spread thighs until their pelvis met. Lotor’s own erection was still held tightly within his suit. It was becoming painful, he’d unsheath himself soon enough. Let Lance watch.

Lance was laid out bare, his chest heaving from the rough oral he’d been given by the Prince. Lotor was a chewer, and Lance could feel the remnants of bites like heated trails around the tip and base of his exposed cock.

Lotor was watching him hungrily, resting between Lance’s legs and taking in the sight of him. The boy was so quiet and receptive after Quintessence, it satiated him and gave enough of a pleasure boost. With the serum throbbing in his system, he’d tolerate some manhandling and sex. 

It’s not that sex without injections was worse, it was just different. Sometimes Lotor was in the mood for arguments and sulking, but it when he just wanted sex, a good fuck, it was easier this way. The fallout was satisfying as well. The next morning’s flood of memories and dark acceptance of what had happened the previous evening was enticing.

He ran a thin nail down the central line of Lance’s stomach, dipping into the well of his belly button, and further to the top of his pubic mound.

“I’m going to fill you up.” he said, raising one of Lance’s long thin legs and pressing his pale lips the muscle on the inner thigh. “I’m going to fill every inch of you.””

Lance was expecting sex, expecting to get fucked. It was all leading up to that. Lotor rarely visited without some sort of sexual interaction. He usually left Lance messy and exhausted, spilling semen from every exposed orifice he could fill. Snot laced with cum, in his throat, squirming around in his insides. 

Galra body fluids were different and more caustic than humans. Semen had a high sour smell and flavor, it reminded him of white vinegar or bleach. The taste and scent would fill his sinuses for hours, only draughts of hot tea and plenty of water could dissipate the lingering mess from Lotor.

“This morning, it’s just us. You have an entire day of recovery and pining for lost causes to keep you busy. Tonight however, I have something in mind.”

Lance was cognizant enough to find the statement odd. Something. What was something? What did he need to do that he already hadn’t done? It gave him a chill, it didn’t feel right. He shifted, his ass grinding against the hard knuckle of Lotor’s covered crotch. The Prince was thoroughly aroused but restraining himself. There was a physical and psychological threat.

“What needs to be done?” Lance was leaning back on his elbows, looking over his bare chest, belly and legs. Lotor ground his hips into Lance, pressing against his asshole and nudging it ever so slightly open. Lance could feel his hole, loose from over abundant use by Lotor, being prodded at and opened.

Since injections started he hadn’t had a scrap of food in a month. At first his stomach growled day in and day out, but eventually his system became accustomed to the new nutrient source and adapted well. Before long he was on a liquid diet, but restricted to only teas and water. The occasional distilled fermented drink was offered, but aside from supplement injections, Lance wanted nothing to do with intoxication. 

“Patience, you’ll find out.” Lotor adjusted himself, raising hips hips so their pelvis’ ground together. The hard bulge in Lotor’s suit pressing roughly against Lance’s delicate testicles. The pressure made him wince, and Lotor grinned in response. He ground harder, making Lance let out a small shriek. Immediately Lotor bent down to kiss the open mouth, shoving his tongue in firm and deep. Lance choked on the protruding muscle, his teeth unable to cut or bite into the dense flesh.

Lotor grabbed his wrists now, pinning them on either side of Lance’s shoulders and he sucked and licked at the inside of the boy’s mouth. The taste of Lotor’s saliva was much more tolerable than his semen, and by the time the Prince pulled away Lance’s mouth was coated inside and out with the slick fluid. His lips glistening from the rough and wet kisses. Lotor began nibbling at the base of Lance’s jaw, nipping at the injection sights and pressing the tip of his tongue into the incision. 

There was a soft electronic hum. Lance looked down to see Lotor’s suit from the hips down had dematerialized, leaving the pale lavender skin of his thighs bare. His skin was warm, but the now exposed erection had a heat emanating from it. Lotor had especially unique genitalia. Whatever genes he’d taken from his father gave his cock an armored look from the outside. The skin was thick but soft. When he was fully aroused however, and ready to penetrate, the outer skin would fold back, exposing a bright magenta phallus, slick and pulsing. It was larger than the sheathed penis, blossoming from the Galra prince’s hips like a glowing flower.

Lance was still flushed and flooded with radiating pleasure from his dose of supplements, but his own cock had wilted slightly at the sight of Lotor’s. It was intimidating, knowing where and how he was going to use it. Lance felt his asshole tighten in anticipation as the base of Ltoro’s phallus brushed against it. The throbbing alien cock was moistened to the point of dripping, and Lotor used the slick, rubbing it between Lance’s ass cheeks and against his perineum.

Lance was groaning, a hot sweat breaking over him. His cock was swelling again, little by little, as Lotor ground and sloshed their hips together, rubbing their phallus’ together, before dipping down again to split his ass, tempting himself to push in. When Lance seemed well lubricated enough, and it didn’t take much to make him accept penetration with his elasticity. Lotor began to press the head of his cock into the ever willing hole.

Lance closed his eyes, feeling tears forming at the corners. Lotor was unbearably hot, and with every inch he pushed inside, Lance could feel the throb and drumming of the Prince’s own heart pulsing inside him.

“Ahh, ahhh!” The sounds was something between a sob and a moan, Lance was filled completely with Lotor now, the Gaara's cock rocking in him gently, before sliding in and out, a half inch, and inch, two inches, before slamming back into him. Lance was so distracted by the sensation he wasn’t watching Lotor, his head was turned to the side, wrists at his shoulders, getting fucked with his legs spread. His thighs hugged Lotor’s hips and split hium open wide. The sound of their sex was echoing through the room, sloshing and gushing coming from their undulating pelvises.

“Ah ah. Too hard! Too hard.” Lance wouldn’t look at Lotor, but he couldn’t help but beg in protest. Lotor was pounding into him now, all the while staring down at the human’s turned face. His large eyes were pinched closed, eyebrows furrowed in pain and humiliation. At times Lance was more willing, even curious. Perhaps he was putting on a show, perhaps it was survival, but Lance had purred like a kitten while he sucked Lotor’s cock on more than one occasion. Even begged for sex in a Quintessence driven state.

“Look at me, I want you to look at me.” Lotor hissed, his voice catching with his heavy breaths. His stamina was high, but he was working into Lance with all his might. Quintessence had made the boy sturdier, better at taking a good hard sex session. He didn’t rip or tear, and time spent in the recovery pods had diminished. Quintessence was a miracle substance, capable of extending the lifespan of any creature, making them almost impermeable to damage. It’d worked wonders on the Champion, transforming these fragile creatures from Earth into hardened supernatural beings.

“No, I hate this. I don’t want to see your face. I just want this to be over with. Just finish, please finish.” Lance bite his lip, shaking his head. He was defying Lotor, angry and sad from thoughts of the Paladins. At times he could forgo thoughts of the past, but lately he’d been aching more and more for the home he’d found with his team. He ached for his family. Here he felt the furthest away from them he had ever been, the furthest away from ever getting back to them.

Lotor gave an exceptionally hard thrust, angling himself to pound ferociously into Lance’s prostate, forcing a stream of fluid from the tip of Lance’s cock. The boy screamed, his breath hitching. 

“Look at me.”

Lance opened one eye, tears leaking down the rim of his cheek as he did, with lips quivering and chest heaving. He winced again when Lotor gave another hard thrust, then returned the Prince’s gaze.

“Good, that’s good. Keep your eyes on me, I’m going to finish.” Lotor was easing his rhythm, pumping at a slower rate but just as deep. Now Lance was moaning, both eyes watching Lotor while the Prince took in his expression. 

Lotor’s own face was flushed with pink bruising around his cheeks. Sweat spotted his skin and shined. They were fucking like this in the middle of the morning, as fish danced in the waves around their room. The sun made Lance feel like he was on display, that anyone could see and hear what they were doing. Don’t think of the Paladins, not like this, not during this. ‘Don’t think of how disgusted they would be if they found you.’ 

How angry they might be on his behalf. He wanted someone to be angry besides himself.

Lance ground his teeth, shivering with frustration at the need for his body to orgasm. Lotor had forced cum out of him, but now he could feel that heat bursting in his groin, the internal and external pressure bursting all at once. Lance cried out, and Lotor revived his harsh thrusting, releasing one of Lance’s wrists to pump Lance’s spilling cock. The Prince was working on his own orgasm, shaking now as he forced himself as deep into Lance as he could, filling him to the hilt.

Lance arched his back as he felt Lotor releasing into him. It was hot, a flood of pressure on his insides. There was so much it was pushing out the sides of his hole, leaking down his ass cheeks onto the fabric of the sofa. There was always such a mess, Galra cum was so abundant and sticky.

Lotor heaved in a deep breath, his thighs tensing and shaking as the last globs of semen spilled into the cavern of Lance’s wrecked insides. As the large purple headed phallus slipped out of Lance, he felt a cool rush of air on his insides, a slight gape where his tight hole should be.

Lotor looked down, resting back on his thighs to get a good look at Lance. THe boy had drooled on himself a good bit, his mouth and neck sticky with saliva. His eyes were streaked with tears, cheeks ruddy with a fevered blush. Lance raised a hand to wipe snot from his nose and the wetness from his eyes. His face felt sticky and hot, stinging from all the salt in his sweat.

He bared down on his intestines, sending a gush of liquid cum from his asshole onto the sofa. Lotor was staring fixedly at it, enjoying the rush of his own fluids from the open hole. His cock was softening, already tucking into the warmth of its fleshy sheath. Lance’s own sat in a small flacid lump on his belly, utterly exhausted and covered in viscous fluids.

Lotor raised Lance’s thigh to his face, kissing sweat soaked skin. The boy was watching him sadly, his breaths slowing, chest shining with a layer of moisture. 

Lotor gave Lance an intimate look, genuine joy after such an invasive act.

The Prince then rose, naked from the waist to his calves except for boots covering his ankles and feet. Lotor’s suit clung to his upper torso, back and arms, but his lavender buttocks and thin thighs were naked and bare. He walked to a small basin against one of the walls, filling it with steaming water. He dampened a small white towel, then used it to clean his groin and legs, wiping cum and lubricant from his hips. When he was thoroughly satisfied with his cleanse, there was another soft hum and the bottom of his suit materialized, seamlessly bonding with the rest of the suit as if they were one whole. He then soaked a towel in hot water, wringing it to avoid dripping, and took another dry one back to Lance.

The boy was sitting up now, his legs still spread to avoid squelching the mess between his thighs. Lotor sat down opposite him and began to clean off Lance’s own belly and groin. He managed to mop up most of Lance’s semen easily, but his own cum was a mess at the base of Lance’s spine.

“Sit up and expel whatever's left onto this towel. I’ll go ready another.” Lance felt humiliated, but this sort of routine was typical. It’s as if Lotor didn’t trust anyone else with the clean up. Maybe he was afraid of how his genetics would be used. He was quite virile, but as of yet uninterested in children of his own. Semen snuck from his royal highnesses chambers could perhaps fetch a high price and greedy bidders.

Lance felt the last globules of Lotor bubbling out of him. There was a puddle of white liquid below him, pearlescent and thick. It seemed to glow from within, possibly from the amount of quintessence the Prince was exposed. Lance was sure he consumed abundant amounts of the substance himself.

Lotor returned to gather the stained towel, tossing it into trash that would be taken and destroyed after each visit.

“I’ll be leaving you now.” He said, slipping an arm around Lance’s neck and pulling him back. The boy’s legs were still shaky, and Lotor felt a tremor go through him. Not pleased to be touched, not after all that. The poor thing. He nibbled on the edge of Lance’s ear. He stood with Lotor’s arm still around his throat, the Prince’s other hand rubbing his smooth chest, pinching one of the raisin colored nipples. Lance jerked, pulling away.

Lotor acquiesced, allowing Lance to pull on the robe he’d worn earlier. It was completely ruined from their sex, but he slipped it on and wrapped it tightly across his chest and stomach. 

“FIne, fine. I’ll leave you be. You have three dozen vargas before nightfall to do what you like, contemplate what you want. I’ll have someone come back to give you your second and third injections of the day.” 

More injections, the highlight and dismay of waking life. They erased hunger and eased the pains of isolation, but Lance felt himself being changed by the Quintessence. He felt alien in his own body. He didn’t feel like a fully functioning human anymore. He didn’t even eat - something that felt so human was foreign to him. His stomach actually turned at the thought of food, he’d grown so accustomed to life without it.

How human was he now? What had been gained, and what had been lost.


	2. Evening Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has the day to himself, left to wander through his thoughts with anticipation of what will happen when darkness falls.

Lance was more than willing to find some privacy in the bath, even if the outer walls were transparent, facing outward. Fish floated gently by while Lance sat still and let the water run. By now the smell of Lotor was fading, and he was lost again in the hypnotic view of the marine life. The water was rose and gold at this time of day, with shimmers of pale blue and green giving it an opalescent sheen. It went off in all directions, seemingly unending. There was no sea bed in sight. Either the vessel reached down beyond visible depths, or they were floating in a deep ocean. The thought would have unsettled him on Earth, but the vacuum of space was an even larger more vast and deadly abyss than the sea.

Space. Somewhere out there were his responsibilities. His comrades. His friends. Maybe it was about time he thought of them. About escape from this imprisonment. How long was he going to wait to be saved? 

Lance raised a hand, and washed soap from his hair and face, letting the hot water spill down the front of him, before pressing his whole face beneath the spray. He felt suds trailing down his back and thighs. He scrubbed them away, wiping the froth left over before turning off the spout. He walked from the large glass shower room into a small enclosed space with a mirror, towels, and a whole display of alien spa products. Lotor had them placed here to please Lance but also for himself. Technically the four rooms Lance allowed access to were Lotor’s, but the Prince didn’t sleep much - if at all. He’d attend to his hygiene and be gone entire days, which here on this alien planet spanned almost 72 Earth hours.

Lance toweled himself off, wiping his hair roughly back and forth, leaving it in small wet spikes. He was exhausted, but not too sore. Close inspection in the mirror showed only a few slight bruises on his inner thighs. There were dark circles around the wrist, especially tender at the bone. The pain was dull, not sharp like it used to be. The injections had made life more tolerable, but what was the price of tolerance? Where was his will going?

There was a fresh set of clothing on the bed, a long golden shirt with blue trim and matching shorts of the same color. The shirt was loose and hung off him, exposing much of his shoulders, but the shorts were small and tight, hugging his upper thighs, hips and belly, resting just below above his navel.

It was almost always the perfect temperature in his quarters, though it did get colder when both of the suns dipped below the horizon of the seas. Lotor made sure to spend most of these long nights with Lance. He had grown accustomed to sleeping during the morning hours, awake at night to spend as much time and attention as Galra prince needed.

When it wasn’t sex, it was long conversations about life on Earth. Life as a paladin, and life as Lance knew it. How did he perceive all of the new alien races he’d come across in his travels? How did he deal with the idea of sentient life outside of Earth’s realm? Humans on Earth weren’t in contact with aliens or aware of the Galra. Oblivious to the expansion of Zarkon’s domain across thousands of years.

Lotor had once mentioned he might like to see Earth. Lance’s gut had gone cold at the thought. The Galra fleet finding Earth, everyone enslaved, all because of him. It had soured any future conversations about his homeworld.

So what did they have to talk about in the end, traveling with Voltron? Painful and dangerous. Any hint at where they’d been could give away vital information about the outposts and safe havens of Rebel Forces. Even mentioning the different aliens they’d encountered could put a treasonous stamp on an entire planet. Mentioning the paladins made him sad and sick. The distance was too much, and a lack of hope devastating.

When Lance ran out of things to say, which was becoming much more common, Lotor wasn’t ready and willing to share his own thoughts. The Prince was like a sealed vault with no visible lock. You didn’t even know where to begin. His emotions were static, Lance found it impossible to read him. All he saw was sadism, arrogance and greed.

Lance made himself tea in a small kitchen area. Water, hot and cold, were available from a small tap. The drawers around the sink had bottles and vials filled with different powders or serums to make a whole variety of beverages. Some were fizzy and bitter, some creamy and sweet. Lotor had given him an array of flavors and textures in liquid form. They satisfied the oral fixation he was missing without ingesting food. It’s hard to describe the sensation of your jaw being bored. There were phantom spasms where he’d find himself grinding his teeth as if he were chewing, only to bite his cheek or tongue.

Lance chose a lavender colored power with small blue dots spiraled in the mix. When added to very hot water, it made something frothy that tasted like blueberries and vanilla ice cream. And flowers, lots of floral notes. The heat of the drink helped to calm his nerves. Thinking about the Paladins and the Lions made him nervous and frightened. He felt small and lonely so far away from them.

With trembling hands Lance sipped at his drink, sitting on a plush white rug that covered a small patch in the far corner of the room. Lance could sit with his back in the ‘V’ shape where the walls met, surrounded on both sides by clear walls and dense expanses of ocean. He felt safest there, with his eyes on the door and his back covered.

Music. There was something missing.

A personal data pad gave Lance access to a variety of broadcast channels. General updates on the state of the Galra Empire, Zarkon’s Disappearance, and current updates about Voltron and the Rebels. Lance could read about the others if he wanted.

Through the biased and belligerent mouths of the Galra propaganda machines he could glean glimpses of his teams success, constantly dreading any news of failure. Some colonies had been won, while some entire planets were lost. It was a war raging on. People were still dying, there was still fighting and chaos.

Lance closed the news feed, hands shaking, his face dappled with sweat.

Don’t do this to yourself.

He opened the music archive, scrolling through hundreds of thousands of songs. How many of these planets or their people were left? How many had been destroyed or overruled by the Galra? In 10,000 years how many cultures came and went enslaved or destroyed? The archive was listed by date, spanning back a series of millenia. Some of the music was older than the human species, while new compositions were being added by the second. 

At least someone in the Galra Empire had cared enough to conserve a bit of what was lost. Lance wasn’t sure if it was happy or sad. Some of the songs were like listening to ghosts, while others were uplifting enough to ease his mood. Lotor had at least given him music. He’d taken away dignity, humanity, society, left him bare and isolated, but he had music from all walks of space and time. He had memories of home. He had dreams.

He had the ocean that seemed endless.

Lance woke to the sound of footsteps. When he opened his eyes the room was dark. The ocean outside had lavender waves, but with depth came a darker shade of violet, leaving the room barely lit save for a dim glow. He felt a distinct chill. The lights were off, but someone, or a group of someones, were present in the room. From this angle he could see them, but they couldn’t see him. Close to the ground, he crawled to the side of the sofa and raised his gaze over the arm to catch sight of what was going on.

Three figures in black robes were working silently. They were readying what seemed to be some sort of ceremonial bath. There was a basin of steaming liquid beside a stack of folded towels. One attendant was arranging a series of bottles in various shapes and size. It seemed harmless enough, except that the last attendant was folding a length of chain into a neat circle. The clinking of the chain was the only sound aside from his breathing, and Lance felt a nervous pang of nausea hit his gut. 

Lance turned, rearing his head to meet eyes with Lotor. The Prince stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, hair draped over the right shoulder.

“Can’t sneak up on you. No startle.” The Prince said with a thin smile and a slight nod. Lance was still bent on one knee. He didn’t rise to greet Lotor.

“You’re not squeamish like you used to be. You know better.”

Lance had learned no reaction was better than a strong one. Don’t compel an aggressive dog to bite, it’s waiting to taste fear-laced blood.

The clinking of the chain stopped. With attendants finished their task, the three of them bowed slowly to the Prince, then made their exit. The woosh of the door closing and locking behind them seemed to echo through the dark silence.

The room was barely lit. In the darkness Lance’s eyes adjusted only so much. He wasn’t sure what Lotor was capable of seeing but had a feeling it was more much more than him.

“I promised we’d have our time together and I am a man of my word. It’s nightfall and here we are.”

Lance slowly rose from where he was crouched, standing upright before the Prince. 

“What’s going on?” Lance ventured, unsure of what was going to happen or how it was going to begin.

“Nearly half a deca-phoebe ago to the day you tried to escape one of my cruisers. We were in the Ergon quadrant observing a collapsing star from a safe distance, when all hell broke loose.”

There was a rush of blood to his head and Lance felt unsteady. That was the farthest he’d ever got to reaching freedom. He did everything by the book, and there were a lot of books. Shiro had his own way of training him. Keith had given him pointers. Allura though, she could literally teach him anything. Especially battle techniques. He wasn’t much but he was stronger than he’d ever been with them. He was something to contend with and at his highest point he was proud. SIncerely proud. That had given him the strength and the courage to try to escape. If Shiro could do it twice, didn’t he have a chance? 

But he wasn’t Shiro, not even close.

When he’d managed to run he ran hard with everything he had. Barefoot and panting he dodged lazer after lazer, feeling some graze and singe flesh leaving the smell of his own skin burning in his flared nostrils.

Just keep running. He convinced himself if he just ran and dodged their fire long enough, he’d find a way out. He’d find the hanger and get a ship out here. That was the plan right? But finding the ships, getting into one, piloting the thing, finding the others, how could he possibly manage that alone?

No time to think just keep running. He ran. He found the hangar, found ships lined in rows ready to be launched at a moment’s notice. But he was high above them. It was a three story, four story drop straight down onto metal flooring. Lance stared down for what seemed like forever. Behind him soldiers were closing in, the bay doors were wide open and he was vulnerable. 

Get to the ships, he told himself. Get away from here. He had jumped.

Lance winced, trying to shake the memory. He’d spent days recuperating in one of the healing pods, his bones rearranging and reforming. Quintessence saved his limbs and his life, Lotor had said. ‘But not so sure about the mind.’

“So you remember being broken and defeated? Suicide doesn’t suit you Lance.”

“I never wanted to die, I just wanted to get away.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Ah, but I think you haven’t.” Lotor snapped, bridging the gap between the two of them to grasp Lance around his throat. He jammed his thumb and forefinger against the boy’s bronchial tubes, choking him with a firm grip.

Lance kicked, gasping without relief as the Prince dragged him across the room. His bare feet stumbled over the rug, one foot catching on the edge of the sofa and dragging it loudly. 

“Ple… PLEASE” Lance gargled, trying desperately to catch his breath. Lotor took him to the far side where preparations had been laid out. He sat Lance down roughly in a padded chair. Only then did he let go of Lance’s throat. The young human coughed and gagged, feeling the strain of bruising on his breathing passages.

Lotor was binding him into the chair, pulling two thick bands across his chest and belly. Lance felt a mode of panic and pushed, trying to rise out of the chair. 

“STOP! Please..ack!” Lance managed. “PLEASE, what’s going on, please tell me.” 

Lotor didn’t bother with an answer, only shoved Lance back into the seat and resumed strapping his limbs into place. His legs were let free to kick and shove at the ground, but his hands were bound tightly to the arms of the chair. Lance gave a questioning tug at his bonds, but he was fastened in place like a pinned insect.

With a jerk of his wrist, Lotor tightened the top strap across Lance’s chest, forcing a scream from his already hoarse throat. The prince smiled, but relented, letting the binds slacken.

Lance choked and scowled as fear settled in. His wrists were fastened flat on the chair’s arms, chest and hips against the back. He pulled at the restraints harder but there was no give. 

Lotor was picking out bottles from the lineup, arranging them neatly before pouring them one by one into a slim beaker. There was a fizzing of the liquids inside, then a bright glow, before it diminished into a deep blue color. Lotor swirled it in a circle, watching the texture thicken into a syrup like consistency. Lance was transfixed, horrified at the thought of the prince using him like some science experiment. Was Lotor mixing poison? Or worse some weird slime that would mutate or brainwash him.

“What… what is that?” Lance croaked, feeling as if something was lodged in his throat.

“Nothing that will hurt you.” Lotor said, coming back to stand in front of Lance. He grabbed the boy’s jaw with one hand and forced open his mouth, sticking two fingers in one side. Lance tried to shake him off, gagging and trying to bite at Lotor’s thin fingers. His teeth couldn’t manage to tear skin, the bones inside the slim digits felt like they were made of steel.

Now Lotor was shoving his fingers into the back of Lance’s throat. Saliva bubbled from the corner of his lips, Lotor’s fingers now slick with it. He was probing Lance’s throat, pressing at the back of his tongue to open the bronchial canal. Lotor had had his way with Lance’s mouth plenty of times before, the thrill of plunging into him with phallus or fingers was enjoyable to him.

Lance whimpered as the Prince began to pour the liquid into his open throat. The texture was disgusting, and the flavor not much better. It felt like gargling vegetable oil with the flavor of sweet gasoline. He understood now why Lotor hadn’t just asked him to drink it. When the glass was drained Lotor tossed it aside, covering Lance’s mouth and nose. He wanted him to swallow every bit of it.

There was a choking sound as Lance gagged on the flavor, some of the strange goo leaking into his sinuses and out of his nose. He swallowed fast as he could, grimacing hard when Lotor took away his hand. Lance had tears brimming in his eyes from the forcefulness of the act and the stinging bitter flavor in his mouth and nose.

Lotor took one of the towels and cleaned Lance’s face, wiping the fluid off his lips and chin. The human was shaky, nervous and afraid of pain. His eyes were questioning but Lotor was unyielding in plans for the evening. Placing the dirtied towel down, Lotor moved back to the table where the bowl of warm liquid sat still steaming. It seemed to be heating itself, staying warm despite a distinct chill in the room.

The table itself was emitting a low light, giving a soft glow to the corner of the room, leaving the rest in hazey darkness. Lotor’s face was underlit, making the Prince look more intimidating and all the more sinister. Lance swallowed hard, his throat uncomfortably slick. There was a numbness settling into the flesh of his esophagus and mouth.

Lotor lifted the pile of chains, a thin but sturdy length of golden links, placing them in the bowl of liquid. They clinked as they settled inside. He discarded the used bottles and soiled towel, leaving a few mysterious viles, as well as a chamber of quintessence. Lance couldn’t help but feel a tug for the substance. Maybe Lotor was going to reward him for obedience.

Lance felt a pang of anger and humiliation at the thought. He was reduced to begging for sustenance, for affection. He was so bent and twisted by Lotor and what was turning into real addiction. Quintessence and the release it gave were at times all he had to keep from wallowing in utter despair. 

Lotor saw Lance recognize the vials of glowing purple liquid, catching the need in his eyes. He walked to the center of the room, fetching a single chair to set beside Lance in his bound position. It was a genial enough setting, aside from the forced bondage and implied torture.

No, this wasn’t about torture, though Lance may consider it as such.

“I’m afraid to ask what’s going on.” Lance said, slurring his words a bit from the numbing of his mouth.

“It’s quite a puzzling situation.” Lotor said, sitting upright, his legs close enough to graze Lance’s own tanned calves and knees. He pressed one leg between Lance’s thighs, feeling the heat of his soft groin though the thin shorts. He gave a firm press, feeling the mound of his shaft and testicles give a little at the pressure.

Lance winced but he didn’t cry out, only bit his bottom lip. He bit harder than he intended and left a deep indent in the skin, close to drawing blood. His whole face felt like it was numbing from his mouth outward. 

“You’re so well behaved. I’m proud of you.” Lotor grabbed the back of Lance’s neck, pinching and massaging roughly at the muscle. 

Lance glared. He wanted to yell at him, demand that he had no choice. Lotor had frightened and degraded him to the point of no resistance. The Prince’s sadism was sharp and calculated, he knew how to harm another creature in ways Lance couldn’t have imagined on his own. 

Lotor ground his knee into Lance’s groin again, eliciting less pain and nudging curiously at Lance’s flacid penis through the fabric of his pants. Lotor raised Lance’s shirt, pinching at one of the soft brown nipples. It hardened slowly into a pert numb between his fingers. Lance hitched his breath, his cock twitching.

Lotor reached down to Lance’s hips, pulling his shorts down to expose the small but growing erection. With one hand he jerked at the plump exposed flesh, coaxing it to stiffen. He pinched at one nipple again and his thumb rubbed into the slit of Lance’s cock tip.

Lance was looking down at Lotor’s fist pumping him. The Prince let go only long enough to dip his hand in the steaming bowl, coating it in what seemed like a viscous fluid. Lance had assumed it was water, but when the Prince returned his hand it was hot and slick, lubricating each motion as he wrung his hand up and down the hardening shaft.

Lance was squirming now, gasping and jerking his hips as Lotor continued. His toes were pointing and curling, scrambling at the ground. He broke into a sweat, shivering at the feeling of cold air on his heated skin. There was a squelching and squishing sound from Lotor’s ministrations, not unlike their interscourse. The lubricant was so warm and wet, the Prince’s fingers tight and undulating.

Lotor kept an unrelenting pace, pulling at the opposite nipple while he squeezed and rubbed at Lance’s erect cock head. Lance came easily from habit and found himself edging toward a rushed orgasm. Lotor leaned in, kissing at Lance’s numbed lips, licking the inside of his mouth. He swallowed soft groans and sighs, Lance whimpering into his open mouth while his tongue dug inside. Lance’s mouth was incredibly hot and slippery, the heat of his tongue and smell of his breath wet Lotor’s own sexual appetite. 

It wouldn’t hurt to open the passageway even further. 

Lotor leaned back in his seat, letting Lance’s erection stand stiff and unattended. The boy was breathing hard, his face and ears a deep red color. Lotor pulled his shorts the rest of the way off, leaving his bottom half bare. He then stood in front of Lance, stroking his slender thighs and pressing them together. He crawled onto the seat, one knee on either side of Lance’s hips. When sitting upright, Lance’s face pressed directly into the prince’s groin.

“No. No no NO.” Lance groaned.

Lotor grabbed the back of Lance’s head, urging him to look up as he undid the front of his suit. His phallus practically spilled out, shoving against Lance’s cheek with intense heat. Lotor jammed a thumb into the corner of Lance’s mouth. It opened readily, taking in the strange but stiff organ of the Galra prince.

In a few solid thrusts Lotor had managed to bury himself entirely in the tightly constricted throat. He felt his hips grinding against thin lips, the graze of blunt teeth on the textured skin of his cock. He groaned as his hips moved faster, the gushing sound echoing from Lance’s hollow throat. Lance was wincing with his eyes closed, saliva leaking down his chin. He was bearing it well.  
The numbness of the tonic made it easier for Lance to accommodate Lotor’s size and shape.

The Prince came with a jerk of his hips and a hitch in his breath, spilling straight into the open passage to Lance’s stomach. He pulled his cock out, slowly releasing globs into the human’s throat and mouth. A stream of it bubbled from his nose and Lance choked, trying not to sneeze with cum in almost every orifice of his face.

Lotor eased off of him, grabbing a towel to wipe down his crotch. His suit sealed itself as he sat down, eyeing the withered remains of Lance’s erection. With another towel he reached to wipe the seminal fluid from Lance’s cheeks, his lips and chin.

The boy looked betrayed, as if he wanted to ask something or make accusations, but was afraid to speak up. Lotor was satiated, he was ready to begin the next rough process. He’d stretched Lance out and prepared him internally. Now was the beginning of a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Chapter 2 was really fun for me, I hope you're enjoying the ride. Chapter 3 should be up soon. I watched season 5 half way through this chapter and I think it helped me flesh out our Galra Prince a little more.


	3. Cover of Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor plays out his obsessive fantasies on his unwilling subject but Lance is hell bent on surviving.

Lance finally broke, pulling at his binds all at once.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT? What are you doing? Untie me please. This is insane!”

“Right now I want you to sit still.”

Lance was at a loss. He’d been fondled and used like a toy all the while in bondage half naked before a proven madman. Lance was beyond panicking, he was having a panic attack. What was the Prince planning?

There was the clinking sound of chains. Lotor pulled the bowl closer to them, gaining easier access while he sat before Lance. He dipped his hand into the basin, pulling the end of the chain out with a with one hand and slipping it through his other fingers to clean any excess liquid off. Lance sat puzzled. There was a small weighted ball at the end that swayed in the light.

With about a foot of chain exposed, Lotor offered it to Lance, holding the metal orb to his lips.

“Swallow.” Lotor said simply.

Lance glanced sideways at the rest of the chain. There was an untellable length in the bowl, he didn’t know if it was ten feet or twenty. Frantically Lance looked back to Lotor. The Prince was pressing the chain hard against his lips now. The bearing was warm, heated through and through.

“What do you mean swallow? I’ll choke. There’s too much.”

“Your body can take it. Gravity will do most of the work.”

“Why would you want me to do this? Wha-” Lotor pressed forward into Lance’s open mouth, using his long slender fingers to shove past his teeth and nudge the ball down his well lubricated and stretched throat.

Lance coughed but couldn’t force the ball back up, with it’s weight it passed through his throat into his chest and belly, all the while the chain following and filling his mouth. Lotor was guiding it in despite soft gagging and choking from Lance. The numbing agent helped diminish most involuntary vomiting, enabling a much smoother insertion.

Shining drops dribbled from the chain as Lotor fed more length out of the bowl. By the time he pulled his fingers from Lance’s mouth at least a few meters of the chain was resting inside him. The boy heaved, on the verge of a coughing fit when Lotor clasped a hand on over his mouth to stem the gagging. 

“Relax and swallow, don’t cough it up.” Lotor held his hand there, smothering a few soft gags. The spasms in Lance’s chest and stomach subsided, allowing the boy to concentrate on breathing evenly.

The Prince pulled his hand away, allowing Lance to catch his breath. He fought the urge to gag, instead swallowing hard, feeling his mouth producing extraordinary amounts of saliva to help pass whatever was blocking it.

Lotor was feeding lengths of chain from the bowl, wiping the excess lubricant as he went. How much more could Lance possibly swallow? Was Lotor going to make him eat the entirety in one go?

“Please, I feel sick, no more right now. It’s starting to hurt.”

Lotor gave an analyzing look, then let down the chain, reaching for a towel and wiping Lance’s face clean again. 

“It’s fine, we can stop for now. You need to start passing what’s in your stomach. It’s probably best to take it slow.” Lotor rubbed Lance’s chest and upper torso, giving an exploratory press on his stomach. Lance whined.

There was a distinctly hard lump where the chain sat coiled inside. Hopefully the ball bearing would begin to travel down into the small intestine. It was the first work Lance’s digestive organs had done in quite some time, but Lotor was certain they’d remember their purpose and function.

Lance was trying not to drool, tilting his head back and swallowing over and over. It was frustrating beyond measure to try and try to swallow unendingly, to no avail. The sensation was bordering on unbearable. If his throat weren’t numbed it might have driven him insane. How long did he have to endure this?

“Why are you doing this.” Lance said, lowering his gaze to watch the Prince.

“You haven’t figured it out?”

“Am I being punished? For trying to run?”

“I suppose you could consider it punishment. But I see it as an insurance of property, and a fitting decoration.”

“A decoration? This?” Lance bit at the chain by accident. It was hard to speak with the links between his teeth. He had to maneuver it to the back on his mouth where his wisdom teeth used to be. There the soft gums allowed him to rest his jaw and close it fully. There was a cold sinking feeling thinking he’d have to get used to this. It gave him a claustrophobic chill that tremered through his spine and arms.

“Would you prefer I pierce your body with rings and chains? That would look elegant on your dark skin.”

“No, no piercings.” Lance didn’t want to imagine being skewered and sewn up.

“This is surely more favorable despite being more invasive. I promise you it will hurt less.” Lotor reached up to hold Lance’s throat, pressing his thumb against Lance’s adam’s apple. He massaged up and down, coaxing the chain inside. Lance made a soft gurgling sound and Lotor let go.

Lotor reaching across the same table, retrieving the small gun and quintessence vial. He loaded the chamber and waved it at Lance.

“I think you deserve a reward for your efforts. The hard part is over, now all we can do is wait.” Lotor took Lance’s neck much more gently now, turning his face to the side. He pressed the chamber to Lance’s jugular and gave the trigger a firm squeeze. There was the hissing sound of release as the chamber emptied, and Lance’s eyes flashed.

The glow in his blue eyes was magnified. His head rolled lazily to the side and Lance felt most of his anxiety melting away. There was sensation. Light behind closed eyes, sound in the silence. He felt the drumming of his heart in time with his breathing.

Lotor raised a hand to ruffle Lance’s hair, messing the dark brown locks. The dark brown strands were soft, his skin warm with a thin veil of moisture. Lotor looked down to Lance’s hips, noticing his diminished erection was beginning to rise.

“That must feel very nice. You’re so susceptible to even a bit of Quintessence. I wonder if it’s your human race or personal constitution.” Lotor dipped his hand in the bowl of hot lubricant again, gathering lance’s cock in his wet fist.

“There we go, just like that.” Lotor pumped his fist up and down quickly and forcefully. Lance’s thighs were shaking, his toes pointing as his legs bowed. 

“Good, you’re so good like this.” Lotor leaned in to lick a line up Lance’s cheek. It was salty from sweat and tears. He licked again, this time at Lance’s lips, all the way to the chain that hung limply from the left corner of his mouth.

Lance was gasping into his mouth, the ferocity of Lotor’s pumping on his cock was overwhelming. With a shudder and a soft cry Lance came into Lotor’s palm, splashing some seminal fluid on his own stomach and hips.

Lance was lost in euphoria, but a part of him knew it was the Quintessence, it was the drug they’d been feeding him, the supernatural substance that made him stronger and stranger with every dose. He knew the pleasure was fabricated and forced on him, but still he moaned and came with little effort. The Prince knew how to dismantle him physically and mentally.

“No more.” Lance groaned. “Let me go already.”

Lotor licked his hand clean of Lance’s semen, savoring the sweetness it’d gained since he’d started an injection only regime. Once again he wiped Lance down, discarding the towels in a pile to be burned. He reached down to Lance’s wrists, undoing the straps so the boy could move his arms freely. Next he unbound his chest, and finally his hips.

Lance stretched his long and lanky body, curving his back to relieve a series of cracks. The thin chain hung out of his mouth, swaying against his chin as he moved. He’d almost forgotten in the haze of his orgasm.

Lotor stood, picking up the bowl that still contained a few feet of chain.

“It’s passed far enough that you won’t be able to rip it out comfortably.” Lotor offered Lance his free hand, helping the boy stand on shaky legs. He walked Lance to the sofa, allowing him to lie down. The boy’s bottom half was still naked, so Lotor covered it with a thin blanket. He placed the bowl beside the sofa and sat himself. Gathering Lance’s head and shoulders to rest in his lap.

Lotor stroked Lance’s hair, feeling the boy begin to doze. He was quite docile after an injection, even with prolonged amounts of sex. Sex or what he deemed as torture. Lotor had been cruel to Lance on occasion but to deem his acts as torture?

Subjugation, yes. Dominance and control, yes. But torture?

Lotor had been raised in the Galra ranks. He wasn’t convinced Lance knew the definition of torture.

As if summoned the doors opened and servants came, ready to clean what was left of Lotor’s preparations for evening. Everything cloth was gathered to be incinerated, including the shorts Lance had worn prior. The used bottles were discarded and the table hastily removed, only to be replaced by another. There was a large pitcher of heated water, new quintessence vials, a fresh injection gun, and a series of various colored powders with two self warming glasses.

Once everything was in place the servants left as quietly as they’d come. The space was neat and clean again. With Lance still resting in his lap Lotor one handedly mixed some powders in each cup, before diluting them with the hot water. He stirred them into a frothy liquid, and began to sip his own as Lance shifted in his sleep.

The boy was swallowing the chain unconsciously as he slept. Lotor was monitoring it’s progression carefully, making sure not to allow too much or too little in at a time. Let it sink in slowly without tangling in his bowels. Lotor propped Lance slightly upright on his side, then pressed the warm glass to Lance’s lips, allowing him to drink in small gulps. 

In a few varga’s time three feet of the chain had disappeared. The bowl was less than half full, and the final links of the chain were in sight. Lance had slept through most of it, only waking momentarily for Lotor to give him another injection. The quintessence was bolstering his system, Lotor was sure the chain would pass without injury.

Lance had managed to drink most of the water pitcher himself, and it seemed the liquid was helping to drive the chain through quickly and with sufficient ease. There’d been no coughing fits or bouts of dry heaving. Lance only groaned in his sleep, feeling possible discomfort from the heavy weight of metal in his usually empty stomach. 

Blue eyes opened with a faint glow, scanning the room around them. They caught the Prince’s gaze and narrowed. Lance’s eyebrows furrowed and he closed his eyes once again. He wanted to sleep through this, his dreams had been an opportunity to escape.

Lotor was stroking his hair. He felt like some kind of pet curled in the Prince’s lap. He clenched his fist, curling away from Lotor’s touch.

“You slept so soundly that most of the night is gone.” Lotor said in a hushed voice, resting a hand on a tanned shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “The sun will be rising soon. You survived.”

Lance didn’t have a response, he only stared forward, watching the color of the ocean outside brighten slowly with the dawn. 

“Come now, sit up, you’ve been lying down long enough.” Lotor helped position Lance with his back against the sofa. Lance was groggy but not in pain, his eyelids drooping lazily. He pulled the blanket around him, remembering he wasn’t wearing pants or underwear of any sort. 

Lotor pushed a steaming glass of pale tea into his hands, urging him to drink.

“You should keep taking in fluids.”

“I don’t think I can drink anymore. I feel so full.” He rested a hand over his stomach, then lower, feeling a very full bladder. “I have to pee.”

“You have to urinate? Are you sure it’s not-”

“I just have to pee I don’t want to talk about it.” Lance stood, feeling shaky but determined to to his business on his own. He took two steps forward when he felt a harsh tug in his throat. He gagged and choked, spitting up some saliva.

Lotor was holding the end of the chain, it was wrapped several times around his hand, still warm and dripping.

“You’ll have to take this.” He said, handing Lance the length of chain that was left. It looked like at least another few feet in length, but Lance wasn’t sure. It freaked him out to see how little was left compared to how much he’d swallowed already.

Lance took the coiled chain in one hand, heading to the toilet and shower area. He savored the feeling of having a door between he and Lotor, even a moment’s privacy was a welcome respite. He looked at the chain and gave a tentative tug. He choked and gagged again, there was barely any give. He tugged again and wretched loudly. Surely Lotor would hear him if he kept this up.

Lance decided to give up for now, instead focusing on his very urgent bladder situation. The weight of the chain inside was pressing down heavily on his organs, and he practically burst. The expulsion was lengthy, and even by the end he still felt full. So long without eating he’d forgotten what it was like to have a full stomach.

After flushing and washing his hands, he stared into the mirror, gazing at the chain that hung from his lips. He opened his mouth wide and looked inside, seeing how the gold links disappeared into the dark hollow of his throat. It was stuck, very stuck. It only had one direction to go now.

It was horrifying and humiliating to think about.

Lance left the restroom holding the chain in his left hand. He still had nothing on his bottom half and the cold was starting to get to him.

Lotor was standing near the door speaking to one of his attendants. There was a new hover table with fresh towels, a bowl of what he hoped was water, and a soft looking shirt and slacks. Lance didn’t ask for permission before he dipped one of the twoels into the hot water, wiping his face and groin of any leftover stickiness. It felt nice to get the salt off his face, and any leavings of the slimy muck Lotor had been feeding him.

Happily Lance pulled on the soft flowing fabric of the new pants he’d been brought. His cold thighs and calves thanked him for it. The shirt was a little harder. Lance worked the chain through the neck as he carefully pulled it on. Tugging on it felt really weird and unpleasant, he wanted to avoid it as much as possible.

Lotor was still speaking in the doorway, and when Lance craned his neck to see with whom he was shocked to see one of the Prince’s generals. He felt a chill seeing her and ducked back out of sight. He’d grown accustomed to servants and attendants. They’d cleaned and trimmed every inch of him on more than one occasion. It was useless to feel shame with them anymore. But Galra soldiers, the same people he used to fight as a Paladin, he couldn’t handle that.

He didn’t feel like a soldier anymore.

Lance was seated on the sofa by the time Lotor returned. He’d been speaking in low tones, in a language Lance couldn’t recognize. Even with translators he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Maybe it was a made up language he only spoke with those he trusted, to keep prying ears from learning their secrets.

Lance was rubbing at his latest injection spots. There was a cluster of three stinging bites on his neck, right above his collar bone on the vein. Putting pressure on them relieved the dull ache a little. He wasn’t used to so many doses at one time.

Lotor sat beside him, turning Lance’s face towards his with one slender hand.

“Say ‘ah’.”

“Ah.” Lance open for him, and Lotor pressed a finger into Lance’s mouth, putting pressure on the back of his tongue to peer deeper. There were no knots or kinks in the chain that he could see. He then pressed firmly on Lance’s stomach with his other hand, and Lance groaned. Lotor pulled his fingers from the boy’s mouth.

“Is it painful?” The Prince asked with little genuine sympathy.

“Would you care if it was?” Lance tried to clear his throat but instead bunched the chain and made himself choke. He had a small coughing fit, ending in Lotor offering him more or what tasted like milky tea. 

“You’ll get used to it I imagine.”

Lance gave him a heated glare, trying not to grind his teeth in anger.

“How long do I have to stay like this?”

“As long as I think it’s necessary. You gave me quite a scare in the Yucera system. When you tried to kill yourself.”

“I told you I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was just trying to get back to my friends!” Lance threw his glass across the room, spilling its contents on the floor.

Lotor lifted his boot to shake some moisture off. He didn’t change his posture or expression.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Why can’t I be angry? Why can’t I be sad? Is it so hard to believe I want to be around people who actually care about me? Who don’t just think I’m some pathetic pet?”

Lotor gave Lance a slow blink.

“It’s awful here. You’re awful, you’re just the worst. I can’t, you don’t...I...I” Lance raised his hands to his face to cover tears. He shook with the effort of sobs, cracking under the weight of last evening and his months in captivity.

“I’m capable of much worse.” Lotor responded, watching Lance with a stern expression.

“Is that a threat?”

“Only a reminder.”

Lance covered his face, not wanting Lotor to mock the watery mess he’d become. Lotor pulled at one of his wrists, urging Lance to look up at him.

“I’m not going to lose you. I’m making sure you don’t leave of your own volition.”

“What’s the point, why me?”

“You think you were my first choice?”

Lance’s eyes widened with rage. “YOU BASTARD.”

“I wouldn’t have treated the Princess this way if I could help it. Just so happens I got the misfit of the group.”

Lance dove at Lotor, knocking the prince back onto the sofa with a solid punch to the right side of his jaw. Lance was on top of him, grabbing at his throat and clawing, grasping for purchase to strangle the Galra prince. Lotor was quite taken by surprise. The quintessence had doubled, perhaps tripled the Earthling’s strength. It had hurt, actually hurt, to be hit.

Strong fingers were choking him, trying to close on his windpipe and fracture bone. Given enough time those fingers might have snapped his spine, but Lotor was wise to death threats. He kneed Lance squarely in the stomach, feeling the hard lump of chain beneath the soft flesh.

Lance felt the wind go out of him and collapsed, falling flat against Lotor’s chest. He coughed, trying to catch his breath. Breathing hurt, his stomach reeling and felt bruised after the harsh kick. It hurt so badly he was afraid he’d vomit blood. 

Lotor cleared his throat as he sat up, his own breaths slightly labored. He coughed twice, raising a hand to his neck. Lance curled around his pained stomach on the sofa, a sound like whimpering and sobbing ebbing from him.

“You’re always so angry when I threaten others. It’d be a change if you stood up for yourself even once. After all you’re the one that needs saving.”

Lance wheezed, sitting up of the sofa, resting his chin on the back of the seat. He was so angry, incrediaby and overwhelmingly angry at Lotor and himself. The Galra prince was right, it was easier to roll over than to fight. Lance had convinced himself of that by this point.

“Why get angry? You’re going to do what you want anyway. There’s no winning, I can’t beat you.” Lance felt his throat tight and swollen from crying. He had to calm down. It didn’t help to cry, nothing changed. 

“I don’t punish you for anger. I would gladly receive it. Though the consequences are high. Should you act on hate, so must you be willing to receive it.” Lotor spoke sternly.

Who had said that to him? Was it Zarkon?

“You’re a warrior aren’t you? A so-called Paladin of Voltron.” Lotor prodded.

“Not anymore.”

“Did I really crush your spirit so irrevocably? Aren’t you stronger than that?”

Lance looked up then, his eyes full of angry tears.

“No.” Lance stammered.

“No what? You’re not strong enough?”

“No. You didn’t crush me entirely.”

“Why is that?” Lotor asked.

“Because one day I’m going to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of updates in a row. I'll be a little more sparse after this but Chapter 4 soon I promise. We're getting to the real meat of the story, I hope it's a fun if not interesting read. I appreciate all the wonderful comments and kudos, they're very inspiring!


	4. A New Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tolerates the rest of Lotor's possessive procedure. The Prince seems more at ease now that Lance has been properly trussed up.

Lance had positioned himself on a smaller stuffed loveseat opposite the sofa. He’d taken the blanket with him, listening to music in the early dawn. His chest and stomach were still sore from Lotor’s kneeing him there, and there was a growing discomfort internally. His lower abdomen was starting to ache painfully. How long had it been since he’d his body that way? Let alone have to pass something so lengthy and heavy. It was gross and humiliating to think about.

Lance closed his eyes, concentrating hard on the music in his ears. Why would Lotor want him like this? Wasn’t this too disgusting for a dignified, high ranking officer of the Galra ranks?Maybe they were all depraved. Lance thought of Shiro and his capture. Shiro had been a fighter, they called him a Champion. Lance didn’t want to know what the Galra whispered about him behind his back.

At least he didn’t have to kill anyone. Shiro had shreds of memories from his time with the Galra, but Lance above anyone never pressed about details. Still, he’d gleamed bits of information through their time together. The blood on Shiro’s hands still haunted him. 

No, at least Lotor never killed or maimed anyone in front of him.

On most accounts the Prince was entirely level minded. He spoke in a distinguished manner, never took meals or injections in front of Lance, treated the servants and subordinates with polite ignorance or genuine kindness. And yet, there was the relationship between the two of them..

In the beginning things were harsh, they were angry and violent. Lance felt a chill in his spine and hips thinking of the forced abuse. There was quintessence, lots of it, and submission, begging, brutality. Lotor seemed to be taking something out on him. There was an intense anger inside the Galra Prince. Lance wondered if the reason was Voltron’s escape. That only he remained as meager pickings.

‘I’m quite sure you’re the weakness link in Voltron. Prove me wrong.’ Lance remembered the words.

It only took a week to prove him right.

Lance winced outwardly, staring straight ahead at the bright interface of his tablet pad, trying not to think about what he was thinking about. Lying on his back, he had one hand resting on his stomach for warmth, the other holding the screen browsing the audio database. No matter how many times he’d checked, in various alphabets and languages, he couldn’t find any music or sound archive from Altea. Not a shred or a hint of their collective culture and existence.

“You should drink more. You need to replenish your fluids.”

Lance hadn’t forgotten Lotor was there, it’s just that he had managed not to look at him for the last four vargas. Not even a glint in the corner of his eye. Lotor was resting, reading a log from his own personal interface. He seemed to be tracking the trajectory of something. Was it another ship? Maybe a series of ships. When the Prince caught sight of Lance’s gaze, he switched of the data screen with a smile.

“What have you been up to? Aside from brooding.”

Lance tongued the chain in his mouth, slowly adapting to its presence. He stymied an angry response, his insides were too upset to argue or start anything.

“It’s painful. I’m just tolerating pain, not moping.” Lance peeled the audio buds from his ears, tossing them aside along with his data pad. Slowly he began to sit up, pressing a hand to his stomach to ease it’s movement. He felt full and sore. Like he was going to be sick.

“All the reason to drink more.” Lotor rose and fixed Lance a cup of hot tea, then stood in front of the boy and offered it. Lance took it without acknowledging the Prince and began to sip it slowly. The Prince grasped the cup and tilted it’s contents into Lance’s mouth, forcing him to finish it off in one go. Lance felt some liquid dribble down the chain. Still he swallowed contemptuously but remained obedient. Satisfied Lotor went to fetch another.

“You can sip this one.” Lotor said, placing a hand on Lance’s face to push the hair of Lance’s sparse bangs back. He ran a thumb over the small scar on his forehead. The mark of his ownership. His fingers then traced down to the length of gold chain protruding from Lance’s soft lips. 

Lance willfully pulled his face away, turning to drink his tea without the Prince’s help.

“I could pull than chain and force you to look at me.” Lotor said in a low tone.

Lance swallowed hard, trailing his eyes back up to Lotor’s face. He furrowed his eyebrows, and gave a strained look. He was starting to tremble visibly. The metal weight in his body really was painful, even with the balm of quintessence to dull the ache.

“It hurts. I don’t know what to do. It’s really painful. I feel like I’m going to throw up and… at the same time.” Lance cut himself off. It was so utterly humiliating and terrifying. He couldn’t stand it.

Lotor bent down to kiss the mark on Lance’s forehead, noticing how cool his skin was despite a slight layer of sweat. Lance winced at the kiss, it’s gentle caress was unexpected and unwelcome.

Lotor slid a hand to the back of the boy’s long neck, gripping the strained muscles with his fingers and palm, allowing a thumb slide up and down the injection sights.

“Let’s start getting you prepared then.”

Lotor let him be, walking away to gather materials. There were already preparations laid out, he’d planned for every step of this process. Most especially the messy ones.

“Remove your clothing and lay down some towels.” Lotor motioned to a pile of folded towels at the edge of the sofa. They’d been placed there some hours ago while he was sleeping. They were large and made of a thick fabric with soft but absorbent.fibers. 

Lance was feeling a combination of pressure and growling in his lower abdomen. The pain was sharper now, a more distinct jab in his belly and pelvis. Never could he have imagined this sensation, let alone the situation. He was afraid to stand.

Slowly Lance rose to his feet, immediately he pressed a hand to his stomach, just below the naval, feeling his insides grinding. The metal was rubbing against itself inside him. It was a solid weight on his organs, resting in the bowl of his pelvic bones. He felt the chain twitch in his throat and it made him choke. There wasn’t much left outside of his body now, less than two foot perhaps. Would Lotor let him swallow the end? Could he be finished in the course of a few days? Or was it going to be a more intense and prolonged torment?

Shakily he took off his shirt, feeling his muscles of his chest and back ache with the extra strain internally. You couldn’t see much of a difference outwardly, Lance’s frame was thin, but he was tall and accommodated the length of chain quite well. He slid off his shorts and stepped out of them, kicking them aside in a pile with his shirt. 

It was full daylight. The morning was settling into afternoon and the surrounding ocean was rose colored with a golden glow. The marine life was out and about, fish-like creatures diving in all directions. Standing naked in the middle of the room was like floating in the ocean. The heat of the space was warm like the outside sea.

Lance was used to nudity by now, in the dark or in the light. This time, however, there was the enduring pain in his bowels and sheer humiliated horror. He was afraid to take a step, he didn’t trust his body. The boy only stared at Lotor, grimacing hard as his stomach turned. He wanted to vomit. It was all too much.

Lotor looked up, Lance hadn’t moved.

“Well? Aren’t you going to lie down?”

Lance shook his head. “I...I can’t.”

“It’s only a few steps. I’ll even help you with the towels.” Lotor gave Lance’s throat a stroke as he walked past, noting how pale the boy looked. His skin was also cool, clammy to the touch. Lotor imagined he must be in real discomfort. The Prince covered the sofa before seating himself, lying one across his thighs double folded. He tapped on his lap, bidding Lance to come sit.

Lance didn’t move.

“One step at a time. I know this must be painful, and you’re not comfortable with pain. You’re docile, you do whatever you can to avoid it.”

“I’m not weak because I don’t want to be hurt.” Lance looked down, rubbing a palm into his stomach muscles, trying to ease the cramping.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to help ease the pain.”

“I really can’t. I’m afraid I won’t be able to….”

“Hold your breath and come climb on me. Tense your body, you can control yourself.”

Lance couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was audacious, it felt more like a demeaning dream than reality. What sort of deranged sexual torture was this? 

Lance held his breath, took a few very delicate but deliberate steps, then eased himself into the Prince’s lap. He sat facing Lotor, one thigh on either side of the Prince’s hips. He looked down, his face only inches from Lotor’s own. He was naked in front of a fully clothed Galra Prince. Lotor still donned his suit, down to the gloves and boots.

At this intimate distance he could smell the Prince’s hair and skin. It was fragrant but chemical, as if he’d tried to hide the artificial scent with other more organic smells. Floral spice covered the that of smelted metals or astringent acids.

“Agh..” Lance winced. He was holding his stomach muscles tightly as he could, resting with his thighs spread over Lotor’s lap. 

Lotor slid a hand up Lance’s thigh, delving between to prod experimentally at the tight ring of his asshole. It tensed and pulled back as Lance’s body shook and he stammered a weak cry.

“Please… please don’t. It hurts too much.” Lance was stooped over Lotor, his head bowed as he drew in breath.

Lotor retrieved one of the unopened bottles from the supplies that had been carted in. It was a long slim vial, full of oily fluid. He slicked it on his left hand abundantly, then returned to push his fingers firmly into Lance’s tight hole.

Two managed to slip in at once, and with a few thrusts and prods three slipped in with a slick sound. Lance choked and yelped, feeling his lack of composure drop. There was an evacuation of liquid, spilling onto the towel below him. It was sticky and transparent, with a midnight blue tint. Lance recognized it as the drink Lotor had forced on him from the night previous. All this time the strange lubricant had allowed the passage of metal through his body.

Despite a release of fluids, the chain still hadn't passed. Lance looked down, terrified, as Lotor prodded back into him, reaching for purchase on the chain links. With the other hand he slipped more lubricant onto his intruding fingers, allowing a fourth finger to vanish into Lance’s now much more open and pliant hole.

Lance had let go, the cramps subsiding as he bore down on his lower intestine, feeling Lotor reaching into him as he tried to force the chain out. With a jolt he screamed, feeling Lotor’s hand disappear to the thumb inside him. He choked, closing his eyes to flush out tears.

Lotor was feeling around inside his organs, moving his hand back and forth, teasing at letting the entirely of his palm slip in. Lance relaxed as much as he could, barely tolerating the abrupt and disparaging intrusion.

There inches deep, was the end of the chain and the small ball bearing at the end for weight. Lotor caught it between his fore and middle fingers, giving a tentative tug as he allowed the links to cluster and slide down the stretched canal of Lance’s colon.

The act was agonizing and left Lance feeling pitiful and wrecked. A bundle of chain coated in that blue lubricant fell onto the towel between his thighs. It stained the fabric instantly, but the chain showed golden and bright in the sunlight. It was unharmed and unblighted despite the process.

Lotor was fingering the round orbs of his ass, playing with the open entrance. He tugged at the chain gently but it seemed to be snug in place. He didn’t want to do any real damage, instead he reached back to pull off his gloves before gripping Lance’s asscheeks with both hands from either side of his thin hips. His bare hands became slick with all the excess lubricant, and slid the hole open easily.

Lance was leaning on Lotor’s left shoulder, his arms pressed against his own chest and head tilting to rest on the sofa seats back. He was enduring Lotor’s musings with his body best he could, wiping the tears and snot from his face. He looked over his shoulder to see the Prince delving fingers in and out of him. Lotor was watching his hands as well, feeling his own desire growing with the sight of it.

The Prince let Lance’s hole alone long enough to dry any clinging fluid from the chains, before tossing the soiled towel aside and resting the length of coiled chain beside his hips. He reached down to his groin, exposing his erection from the fabric of his suit. It gave a soft pulse, pressing warmly against the slick interior of Lance’s thighs.

Lance leaned back suddenly, willing to fall out of the Prince’s lap to avoid having that inside him, now of all times. Lotor caught his upper arms, and sat him upright in his lap, his large alien phallus rubbing against Lance’s own.

“Ah! Please-” Lance managed. He wanted to object and snap at the Prince, but he bite his tongue from saying Lotor’s name. It felt dirty to say it outloud. He wouldn’t address him directly.

“Can’t I just rest?” Lance murmured, bowing his head to hide exhaustion and misery. Lotor took the boy’s cheek, raising their faces to meet so he could kiss at his mouth. Urge the thin lips apart, lick at the chain, then the teeth, and the tongue.

Lotor was open mouth kissing Lance, swallowing the distressed sounds from Lance as Lotor ground his hips, urging their cocks together. His own was secreting fluid, and between the two of them there was a sticky wetness. The Prince pulled their lips apart momentarily to speak.

“Make me cum and you can rest.” He hissed, as they grazed lips.

Lance glared at the Galra, frowning hard with a flushed face. He was feeling anything but sexual after the endurance of passing a chain through his body. What he wanted was a shower, to clean himself and his insides. He wanted to lie there with the pounding spray of cleansing water, surrounded by a cloud of billowing steam.

“I feel dirty. I want to bathe.” Lance was kurt, insistent.

“In that case I’ll just join you. We can continue there.” Lotor bit at Lance’s lip, pulling him into another deep kiss as he started to rise. Without warning he turned Lance sideways, scooping him up across his chest and holding him lengthwise. Lotor made sure to grab the end of the chain dangling from between lance’s thighs.

Lance wanted to protest but his legs were shaky and his insides ached. He wasn’t sure how well he could walk. Lotor wouldn’t have put him down anyway.

Once inside the lavatory Lotor helped Lance to his feet, encouraging him to drink more water before stepping into the shower room. The faucets went on with hot steaming water. It hit Lance’s skin like a wave but he was thankful for it. A day and nights worth of grime and muck was sliding off of him, washing away down the drain. The hot water felt good on his aching muscles, putting an ease to the dull throbbing of his innards.

Lance jumped when he felt Lotor’s hands on him again. The Prince was looming over his frame from behind, covering Lance’s shoulders with his own and grasping the boy’s abdomen. Lotor pressed curiously at the slight rise in Lance’s stomach, the presence of so many meters of golden chain.

“Ahh, I’m going to be sick.” Lance warned, feeling the urge to gag. How long was he going to feel on the verge of illness? He was still sore from where Lotor had kneed him. Sure enough there was a plum colored bruising to the area. With the Prince here any solace he usually found in the shower was gone.

Lance could feel Lotor’s naked skin against his own, the alien texture and cool temperature were unnerving. So rarely did Lotor ever have sex in the nude. His suit was a barrier of protection the Prince rarely did without. In fact Lance couldn’t remember a time he’d seen him naked completely, only half his suit, sometimes no gloves, but never completely naked.

Lotor was resting his cheek against the side of Lance’s neck, allowing the water to stream down both of their bodies, coating them in a thin river of warmth. With the heat of the water Lance could feel Lotor’s body temperature rising to an almost human equivalent.

Lance couldn’t help himself and glanced behind. Looking down he could see the expanse of Lotor’s lavender skin, from taunt serratus muscles to lean, carved thighs. He could see no visible scars. Either Lotor hadn’t sustained major injuries or his alien physique left no mark of past trauma.

Lance buckled as Lotor placed more weight on him, wrapping round his smaller frame and gripping his chest. He pushed them both forward until Lance was pinned against the transparent wall that looked to the outside. The sea was green, gold and pink. Different colors in each direction. It was swirling with life, marine creatures darting here and there, in schools or large clusters.

Lance’s chest and thighs pressed flat against the cool glass. It made his nipples harden with harsh contrast to the heat of the shower water. Lotor was pushing against Lance’s spine with his hips. The Prince was still quite aroused, and his phallus prodded at the small of Lance’s back, before probing lower with curious fervor.

Lotor’s cock nudged at Lance’s ass, slipping between and lower to push at his loosened hole. The chain was rinsed clean of lubricant, and hung limply from the open entrance. 

The Prince reached down between their hips, guiding his engorged phallus in with one easy thrust. Lance felt his knees buckle as links of the chain ground into his prostate, sending a shockwave of pained arousal through him. His cock twitched against his abdomen, leaving smudges on the foggy glass.

Lotor grunted and shuddered as he forced himself in as deeply as possible. Lance felt his insides giving way, the soreness in his belly averted by the the engorged cock in his ass. His guts clung to Lotor and hugged his cock like a series of hungry mouths. With a bit of quintessence even human holes could squeeze so generously after such prolonged use. 

Lance whined as Lotor pounded into him repeatedly, raising his hands against the glass to gain some bearing. The Prince was holding him up with the force of their thrusts. Lance was at best on his tiptoes, at worst feeling the weight of his body being lifted from his hips. Water dripped from his toes as he was jerked upwards by the motion of their fucking. He was gasping through the mist of water and steam, his eyes closed tightly.

“Ahh AHH!” Lotor grabbed Lance’s cock, coaxing the timid erection to full girth as his own cock throbbed inside. It rubbed the chain aggressively against Lance’s agitated prostate, spurring rapid growth.

Lance felt spent already, his penis milked of fluid in anticipation of an orgasm. There would be no pleasure in it, just more exhaustion.

Lotor was picking up pace, relentlessly fucking Lance against the glass now. There was the echo of his breath, a harsh raking sound coming from the Prince that bordered on a guttural growl. Lance was riding his motion, keeping their movements fluid. It hurt less and felt better. Better in context.

Lotor suddenly wrapped an arm around Lance’s chin and throat from behind, pinning him hard as he gave a firm and final thrust. His hips undulated and he sighed, biting into the back of Lance’s neck from behind, just below the hairline.

The bite took Lance by surprise and he shrieked, feeling the pain like a jolt through him. He tensed, even his asshole squeezed tighter from the shock. It was enough to finish Lotor off, and his cock‘s tip burst forth with a swell of fluid.

“Ahhha-...ahh!” Lance hitched his breath as Lotor pulled his teeth away, leaving a circular bite mark made of thin imprints welling with blood. There were four distinct pricks, deeper than others. The Prince’s sharper and elongated canines had penetrated deeper. They gave ferocity to his expressions and his biting mouth.

Lotor leaned against Lance, unwilling to give up the hot wet hole he was buried. He gave a few last tentative thrusts, riding the wave of pleasure. The chain was rubbing against his fading erection, slickened by the semen filling Lance’s intestines

Finally Lotor pulled himself from the boy, falling back into the stream of water to rinse sweat and fluids from himself. He grabbed his own cock and gave it a few quick pumps, forcing out anymore more seminal fluid and extending any lingering arousal. He looked down to see the curve of Lance’s ass, the stretched hole sucking in deeply as he tensed.

Lance was still pressed against the glass, unwilling to move for a moment. He breathed in the steam, watched the fish float by in oblivious bliss. He wanted to be out there, in that water, hovering alone without sound or feeling.

Finally he pulled away from the glass, edging back under the shower faucets, letting it pour over him. He felt his hair go back, the throbbing in his sinuses and temples from crying and screaming, eased bit by bit. 

Lotor stroked his face and Lance jerked away, wiping the water from his face so he could glare at the Galra.

“You said if I made you cum I could rest.”

“I only wanted to examine your wound.”

“It will heal.” Lance snapped.

“It might scar.” Lotor added.

“I don’t….I don’t care. Don’t touch me.”

“Very well, another mark to remind you of me.” Lotor ran fingers through his wet hair, finishing his own hygiene routine. He used different shampoos and soaps, to Lance they smelled strange and bitter, but the Prince didn’t seem to mind or notice the harsh scent.

Lance winced, hating Lotor for the injury to his body and pride. Reluctantly Lance soaped and washed the wound. He scrubbed his body free of the various slimy substances, pushing as much of Lotor’s semen out as he could. The chain was awkward to wash around so he hung the long end on one of the faucet dials to keep from stepping on it.

The Prince finished before him, stepping out of the shower and leaving Lance in quiet peace if only for a moment. Lance scrubbed his hair, sighing loudly with relief to be alone.

Outside Lotor was toweling his hair, walking naked across a thick absorbent rug. He stood before a long mirror with sinks and counter space below it that stretched multiple meters in both directions. The space was well lit, but lights around the mirror opened as Lotor approached. He gave careful scrutiny to his face, using an array of gels, tinctures and lotions. His hair received a similar treatment, and a thorough brushing. 

By the time Lance finished almost a varga later, Lotor was just getting dressed. His hair was mostly dried, appearance prim and proper. He didn’t seem like the same sex crazed sadist when he was put together like this. Sometimes he looked like prey beside other Galra. His stature wasn’t large, even if he was taller than Lance. Did the Prince intentionally groom himself to be, what was it, beautiful? By Earth and Galra standards.

Lance wasn’t thrilled to see the Prince still in the restroom. He grabbed two towels, folding one around himself while drying his upper body and hair with the other. The chain dragged with a slinking sound as he walked.

Lance looked around hopefully for clothes, opening a glass panel of the mirror to find a hidden compartment full of loose fitting shirts and slacks. He gathered an outfit, a white top with cream bottoms. All the clothes were light in color with comfortable, breathable fabric. It was like being on the beach, eerily so.

Lance was allowed to dress himself, but was perplexed at what to do with the chains. The end between his thighs he had first snaked down one pant leg, but found it awkward and difficult to walk. Instead he’d raised it out of his pants, looping it twice around his hips.

“Come here, I’ll clasp them for you.” Lotor motioned with his hand. Lance paused for a moment, then drew closer.

“How long do I have to wear this?”

“Let’s just say you’ll have to get used to it.”

Lance rubbed his stomach. He was in fact getting used to the metal weight. It wasn’t cramping as badly, though there was lingering pain if he turned the wrong way or breathed too deeply. Still he obeyed the Lotor and stood before him.

The Prince took the chain from Lance’s mouth and wrapped it around his throat, clasping it tightly under his jaw like a golden muzzle. Lance could move his head freely, but the links couldn’t be swallowed any further. Lotor then pulled the other end taut, clasping it around Lance’s waist. Once both ends of the chain were secured and locked into place, he backed away with palms exposed.

Lance touched the chain under his jaw, turning to look at himself in the mirror. The golden links looked like some surreal piercing. It was really unbelievable to think it went the whole way through him. 

“I’m going now. You’re free to do as you like. Why not even take a stroll?”

Lance’s eyes flashed, he turned to Lotor.

“Outside? You’re letting me leave these rooms?”

“I’ve quartered off this floor, no military personnel, just servants. You won’t have to worry about any of my soldiers.” Lotor said as he went back into the main room. 

Lance followed, though not quite used to the new sensation of walking in bondage. He was tired but he didn’t want to sit. Aside from the unwanted protrusion, his ass and pelvis were sore from sex.

Everything had been cleaned in their absence, leaving the servants only to bow and leave.

“Like I said, feel free to roam. There’s more to see and more to do.”

Lance rubbed his arms, watching Lotor anxiously. He couldn’t think of anything to say. The Prince seemed to be waiting. For what, a thank you? Like hell he’d praise this bizarre and impulsive kindness. 

Lotor smiled. Without further inquiries or pleasantries he was gone, leaving Lance to consider his day. His new imprisonment came with the promise of more freedom.

At what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading as always! I've received so many wonderful comments I can't thank you enough. Your words and sentiments really motivate me to push on. Everyone is so very eloquent and kind.


	5. Recovering Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wanders cautiously through the new rooms he's gained access to, fully exploring Lotor's "gift".

Lance was nervous about leaving. He stood where he was, looking about the vacant room. There was a calm to the space, empty of smells and sounds. It was sterile, seemingly untouched and pristine.

He noticed his datapad had been placed neatly on the counter, along with fresh glasses for hydration. He poured himself water and drank it down, running a finger to scroll through the news feed on his pad’s interface. Sightings of Voltron, but no recent battles.

They were alive. He was alive. At least there was that.

Lance picked up the audio buds and tucked them into his ears. There was a spur of sound as he started up the music from earlier. Too somber for the mood now, he needed something more uplifting.

Fractious rhythms and pulsating beats filled his senses. They crashed and rolled over one another with electronic notes that resonated and reverberated through his ears. Something up tempo, transportive and lustrus. 

He stared at the door, noticing the right hand panel was glowing blue instead of it’s usual magenta. Approaching cautiously, he rest his palm flat on the glowing surface. There was a soft hum as the door opened, revealing a lit corridor branching in three directions. His room, and passageways extending left and right.

Lance poked his head out into the hallway, glancing to the right, then the left. Both passages were identical from this point of view. He stepped out of the room barefoot. He forgot shoes, but then again, couldn't remember the last time he’d had any. Long slender feet padded softly on the warm metal flooring. The lights were strong but not glaring. 

Lance made his way carefully onward, realizing the hallway was arching down. Wearily he continued on, soon to be greeted by a staircase leading below. He could always retrace his trail. Make his way back to the safety of his room. Maybe this was a bad idea.

His steps were cautious but insistent, and he noticed the wall panels were giving way to transparent panes. Lance observed that it was darker on this side of the ship, the large vessel blocking most of the two sun’s rays at this hour. It wasn’t sunset, not true sunset. The first sun would dip under the horizon, followed many vargas later by it’s sister star.

Lance kept going as the ceiling of the passageway grew higher, the steps delving lower. They were opening into a large dimly lit room, with high clear walls that stretched upwards several stories high. It was gigantic, larger than any aquarium he’d ever seen, let alone knew existed on Earth.

Outside was a mountain of thriving life. There stood a jagged outcrop of rock. On this side of the ship were reefs, unlike the view Lance was given in his isolated area. Covering it almost seamlessly were marine flora, blossoms and tubes, some hollow, some opaque with their colors varying from bright crimson to the darkest blues. There were soft filaments of what Lance thought to be anemones, along with huge urchins twice the size of his splayed hands. The fish of this planet weaved in and around masses of undulating tendrils that were reaching out to feed on the microscopic life teeming within every drop.

On the shadowed leeside of the ship, creatures were glowing with iridescent light. Some shrank away into small caves bored in the rock, staking out their territory and making a display of it. Bursts of popping light dismayed would be intruders. Other beings sent ripples of rainbows across the their thin bodies, several feet in length, only to disappear in direct light with their cellophane structure.

This was a treasure to behold. Lance found himself transfixed, falling into the music drumming in his ears, captivated by the view before his eyes. The splendid beauty of an alien planet’s life force, the ebb and flow, the living breath of a flourishing ocean. 

Lance pressed his fingers against the glass. A school of metallic fish, eyes too small to see, tails longer than the body itself, redirected it’s movement in a flurried response to Lance’s presence. He didn’t tap, just rested there, feeling the cool surface against his heated skin. The school swam tirelessly, diving toward the corals for shelter. Other fish, larger and more curious, came to greet Lance’s hand, hovering with gentle flicks of their side and under fins. Some with their gaping mouths and wide eyes were almost comical, while others resembled sleek sharks donning three pairs of sturdy legs. 

Land sharks? If there even was land on this ocean planet. Maybe the legs were for gripping the rocks, or rather prey. The presence of these creatures was comforting. With slender snouts and slightly open mouths lined with teeth around a pink mantle, their eyes were dark and hollow in the low lit shallows. 

Lance stepped back, taking in the room. He was on a lower level, the floor cut in with sleek couches on either side of a large lowset table. In it’s center sat a tall circular tank. An assortment of jellies, some circular, some hexagonal or star shaped, hovered in slow silence.

Towards the back of the room were two inset squares on either side of a fireplace. A vase was perched in each with a bouquet of white flowers, something like a mix of Earth roses and lilies. The walls were sleek and black where they weren’t transparent, making the space feel slick and wet, similar to the interior of an underwater cave. Even the hearth was burning low, blue flames flickering against the dark walls.

Lance was disturbed by this place. Everything immaculately procured and put in place to entice him. To gain his trust? Admiration? Affection?

The golden links tugged and rode the muscles in his throat, buckling as he swallowed hard. He was half on the verge of choking at any given time, the chain an unruly and painful presence. Damn Lotor, there was no going back from this. There was no recovering from what he’d done. There was only animosity and hate where the Prince was concerned.

Lance didn’t care who or what had made Lotor that way. It wasn’t the point. If he really was a culmination of unspeakable acts, degrading or agonizing attacks on his body and mind, why repeat those same atrocities? Wasn’t Lotor hell bent on becoming something unlike Zarkon? Someone elevated above his father’s own tyrannical reign and blood thirsty conquests.

How many times had Lotor insisted he wasn’t like his Father? Even after the rapes, the strained sex that would follow, the injections and mind bending drugs. Wasn’t that cruel?

Wasn’t that uncalled for even if this was war? Maybe he was too naive.

Lance grabbed a vase of flowers, tossing it with full might into the fireplace. There was a shattering crash of glass breaking, then the hiss of fire doused with water. The flames were low but persistent, and soon the petals of white flowers were curling and browning, wilting in the heat until they eventually blackened.

Lance didn’t feel much better, but at least the illusion was somewhat shattered. He turned to his right, noticing a staircase leading up. There was more to explore, he didn’t want to linger. Staring back at the towering wall of ocean and coral life, he had to admit it really was spectacular. He’d probably return to seek comfort from these surroundings. 

He hated Lotor. Hated how much that bastard saw through him.

Lance climbed the stairs, leaving the sheltered cove to rise into the brightly light floor above. As the stairs curved the walls became clear again, giving Lance a view of the rising tide. For months he’d been underwater, but this staircase took him higher, cresting the waves before rising above them.

From this height Lance could see exotic looking birds flying in the surrounding air currents. They dominated the sky, wing count ranging from four to twelve. Some were covered in feathers, other soft down like fur. So there was land on this planet somewhere. 

He came into a large open space. One wall tall and open, the other cut into different levels connected by a spiraling glass staircase. Any opaque walls in the room were white, reflecting the outside sunlight with sharp brightness. It would be something to watch the sunsets from here, for now he’d only seen them below the waves.

The room had three levels. A restroom on top, bedroom below, followed by a cafeteria on the lowest level. Each were open in a loft style, full of light and exposed. On the cafeteria level was a long counter fixed with stools. Behind it was an inset bar, lined with vials of glowing magenta fluid.

Quintessence.

Lance’s eyes widened. He felt goosebumps on his arms, felt the hair rising on the back of his neck. There was an electricity in his stare, drawing him in towards the vials. He’d do anything for it. Anything. He’d done almost anything for a few drops. 

And here was half a deca-phoebe’s supply.

He couldn’t help but rush over the carpet, moving quickly towards bar, looping around the counter to reach out and touch the Quintessence placed in neat rows. He ran his fingers across the glass vials, feeling warmth from within them. His fingers shook, lips felt dry, he breathed out with a sob, peeling his fingers away painfully.

There were three injection guns on the flat counter top. He only needed one gun, one of these vials and it would be heaven. He could collapse in this room with the dying light of the day. Forget what happened through a few blessed hours of unconscious rest.

Lance backed away unsteadily. No, not now. Not like this, not like an addict. Not with shaking hands and a heavy heart. He couldn’t give into temptation. In this room dancing with sunlight, surrounded by clouds of all colors and sizes, he felt unsafe. He felt watched. He wouldn’t do this to himself. 

There was another staircase leading out of the room and he took it, happy to be away from the call in his body, the ache in his bones for sustenance. There was more to see than this, had to be more. Following the stairs he went down, the walls and staircase curving. Lance had figured out this was a large cylindrical vessel. He tried to map out it’s layout in his mind. If these rooms belonged to him now he better get to know them.

The stairway led straight into the depths, deeper than the room he’d previously occupied. Here the outside see was dark even in the day. How deep had he travelled? How far into the ocean had this vessel sunk?

The room he found at the base of the stairs was dimly lit, darker and more foreboding than any place he’d yet discovered. Even in the gloom of the outside water Lance could see flickers of light, signs of life. They were the brightest thing in the room, giving an eerie presence. 

As he made his way to the center of the room, lights began to brighten, giving way to the huge hollow space. There was no furniture, no decorative elements, everything entirely minimal. It was almost bare, save for large metallic objects lining the walls. Lance realized with apprehension that they were weapons.

This was a sparring room.

Standing barefoot in flimsy clothing made the instruments of violence around him all the more intimidating. Sharp axes, swords forged of alien metals. Why had Lotor given him this space? Was this some sad joke? Could he fight in his current state, could he defend himself against Galra soldiers, against Lotor himself? 

Lance crossed the room to stand before the weapons. After some consideration he reached out, grasping a solitary hilt.. There was no blade, only a hollow shaft. He pressed in indentation in the metal, then jabbed the base of the hilt against his opposite palm. Immediately a burst of light shot forth, expanding into a long thin glowing blade. It was wider at the tip, but sharp and hot on all sides.

Lance recognized this mechanism from the Toboryck system. Their people didn’t have much girth, so they needed lightweight powerful weapons. They were a safe memory. The Paladins helped free them from Galra suppression, specifically clearing up manufacturing facilities that had been poisoning the planet for thousands of years. 

He swung it from side to side, the heft of it was nothing. The blade cut easily through the air, gliding effortlessly. It was getting easier to move with the weight in his belly. The chain shifted with his body movements, but if he kept his stomach muscles taut and tight there was no lurching sensation inside.

Lance could feel his muscles popping with static joy at the chance to move so freely. He was a dancer, but Allura had taught him how to be a swordsman. He thought of her guidance, lost in the rush of synchronized movements. 

It wasn’t just about memorizing, he reminded himself. It was about fluid intuitive motion. Use the stance, the defensive and offensive maneuvers to create a melody. Find the right rhythm to match your opponent’s own.

The smell of burnt fibers woke him from his trance. His shirt was billowing, it caught the edges of the lazer blade and had singged from its heat. He was panting, the chain abrasively tugging and bunching with his breaths. He was still getting used to controlling it, calming a series of coughing fits.

Lance lifted his shirt over his head, leaving his upper body bare. He was sweating, the rise and fall of his breaths glistening with moisture on his dark skin. His shorts remained, the other end of the chain wrapped snug around his waist.

Lance recovered his stance, rushing forward with the sword, swinging at an invisible opponent. They were faceless now, in his mind he first saw the training bots from the castle. He swiped his sword sideways, imagining an excruciating wound across his opponent’s chest.

 

He turned, rising so his toes barely touched the ground. He struck at his abstract foe, a limb here, a scar on the face. His opponent was growing ever more evident as the fevered mirage carried itself out. 

I see your face, I see your eyes, I recognize the shape of your body and the unrestrained malice.

Lance stabbed at the ground. The blade penetrated the smooth pliant surface, marring it with a deep seared trench. He was on his knees panting. In his mind’s eye he saw Lotor, purple blood leaking from his parted lips. His chest impaled through the lungs and heart.

Lance wiped tears from his eyes, alone with only the soft hum of his glowing blade. He rose to his feet, leaving the sword upright in the ground. He went to retrieve his shirt, realizing he’d burned most of the arms and shoulders. If he’d suffered any injuries, he didn’t notice. He was so lost in the moment, the Quintessence in his blood was so powerful. There was electricity in his veins.

He abandoned the ruined shirt. There were other weapons to test. In all his time cooped up he’d dreamed of fighting again, of being useful. At least here he could train and become stronger. Even so the room upstairs hissed and whispered in the back of his mind. He was terrified of that place despite its beauty. He would rather wrack his body fighting then fester in the lull of lies and false security.

Just as he was choosing another weapon he heard a whooshing sound. One of the wall panels sank away, revealing an inset lit from below. There inside was a suit, very similar to Lotor’s. It was longer and thinner, suited to a lankier frame. Of course it must be meant for him. Beside it sat a weapon.

The Red Bayard.

Lance felt heat rush to his face, his stomach churned. He ran to opposite wall, terrified this was just some tease. That the panel would close again seamlessly and he’d be left with devastated hope. He was scrambling over himself, finally slamming against the wall with the momentum of his run. There was glass separating him from the bayard. He looked around, a button, a panel, something to release the glass. He was ready to break through it with his fists.

There. There was a glowing panel on the right side. It was blue, signifying it was unlocked. He slammed his hand against it and the glass panels separated.

Lance grabbed the bayard. He practically wept as he felt the familiar weight of it. This wasn’t fake. It resonated through him with a calming aura. He felt strength and familiar peace ebbing through him in waves.

He stood back and paced away to the center of the room, all the while holding the bayard close to his chest. He breathed in deep, deciding then and there that no one would take this from him again. That he’d die grasping it with cold rigid fingers. 

He whipped his hand to the right side and the bayard lit from within, extending down into the length of an Altean sword. He raised the blade to his face, taken in by the catch of light glinting on it’s edges. How comforting to have this back, like reclaiming a lost limb or a piece of your own spirit.

Lance winced and spun on his heels with sword close, extending it out with a quick jab of his shoulder.

Lotor stood shocked with the bayard’s blade resting below his clavicle, the sharp tip threatening to pierce the Galra armor. Lance was countered by Lotor’s own sword, ready to slit his exposed throat.

“I’m impressed I have to admit.” Lotor didn’t move, the two of them trapped in a standstill. Slowly, Lance acquiesced, withdrawing from Lotor but keeping his sword at the ready.

“Despite not being here to witness your little tantrum, I can still see the results.” Lotor nodded to the lazer blade still sticking out of the ground with hilt in the air. Lance winced outwardly but refused to give into Lotor’s taunting.

“No really, it is good for you to get out all this aggression. Forgive me not granting you access to this space sooner, it was in the process of being built. Not to mention the fact you weren’t properly attired.” Lotor smiled, eyes tracing down to the glimmering chain across Lance’s cheek and under his slender jawline. The boy glared, breathes even and slow, eyes furious.

Lance acted quickly and raised the red bayard to his shoulder. The weapon gave off it’s usual glow while transforming into the long ranged version of the weapon. Lance readied the rifle and took aim in a flash.

Lotor barely dodged the barrage of energy fire coming at him. He blocked three shots deftly with his sword, causing a bounceback that took Lance by surprise. The paladin leapt out of the way, rolling across the smooth flooring to a crouched position. The sudden movement made his stomach churn, and in the few moments it took to grasp his bearings, Lotor gave him a direct and heavy kick to his chest.

Lance went flying back, hitting the glass walls that peered out into the ocean depths. He felt his skull crack on the hard surface, his shoulder blades and pelvis slamming so violently it shook him his core winded him. The bayard was still in his hand, but his senses were blurred. He tried to raise it but felt a firm presence slamming it down.

Lotor was standing over him, one foot on the bayard, the other pressing painfully between his legs.

“Don’t make me take it away from you.” Lotor snapped. “So ungrateful.” 

Lance looked up through bleary eyes to Lotor’s face, he grimaced.

“Say thank you.” Lotor insisted. He grabbed Lance’s hair so the paladin couldn’t look away.

Lance bit his lip, his awareness coming back to him slowly. “Thank…”

“Thank you.” Lance managed.

Lotor let go of Lance’s hair and the boy’s head drooped. The red bayard took on it’s disarmed shape, but Lance kept it gripped tightly in a clenched fist. The Prince stroked his cheek with a gloved thumb. 

“Make it up to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter 6 should be out soon, I've caught up to myself. Hopefully this story is the right sort of intense for your enjoyment.


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